Realizing  it’s been six years a final hospital visit, the Catholic ward sitting in the lounge there, making a joke about the Jewish guy being in the wrong place before the fist of a different God. Should we have told him, but let it drift like the thin snow of morphine drizzling over when to … Continue reading Splitting Wood with Terry

  The first time your arms get prickled by the rougher ends learning to wear a long-sleeved shirt and gloves helps. The binding scores into fingers when you lift and drag them, it’s better to push them downhill to a flatter place and collect them later. The heat makes you dizzy, lapsing sideways without going … Continue reading The Mercy in Hay

  I have loved, hungry as the fox a mad omnivore suck the marrow even a shadow holds that semibreve taste, shed skin before the wind gaze the still warmth in the snow crystalline hold the pose catch what you can hunter, we are all prey for the slow falling thunder of strike ignition from … Continue reading Brevity

  I milked a season in the high range near Timboon for a Bavarian named Rudi, who built a Black Forest house out of place against eucalypts like those old special effects , a wobbly head stuck on the wrong body land so fat the kelpies pretended to bring the cows in, spent their time … Continue reading A Dairy Hand on a Hill

after the Solstice a full moon comes the sky wrung out in cold acrylic a communion wafer all day it has lingered blown out of the night now in anchor against drift whispering the falling point of water is the distance between a velocity of tears and the upbeat from anticipation to departure evening mist … Continue reading after the Solstice

  I will not read you again Pablo the dusky maiden defence your unbridled hot manhood what a lying cur you were those words of silk intelligence over such coddled remorse hungry thousands at your readings the artifice of immunity all cracked clay in the hearts of men your words now dust from rain the … Continue reading Letter to Neruda, broken glass

  If granted all the Grace of God And the charterer’s benign skill, No end of teasing powers for this pod Could come near to giving me my fill. Words are unsatisfactory lovers – They skirt the question that must be so uppermost, Poorly they try to extend the peak of my druthers. Love, leave … Continue reading If granted all the Grace of God

  An unborn dreaming hunger touched my wrist outside the Nine Acres Cafe counting cars as the southerly broke into fragments the barista’s earnest feathered design I’m thinking of how you plaited the ingot beads and bound up the kneaded lot over your shoulder like a Scandinavian sweetbread a triage of green years passed to … Continue reading House H(a)unting, Fish Creek Victorian